A day in Granada

Just for something different on this particular escapade we had no reason to get up early. No tours, no travel, no traversing...and so we slept in whilst the city of Granada woke up and went to work. It was kinda nice to hear it happening as a mild hubdrub seeping in through the double plated laminated windows. Eventually emerging from our luxurious haven we hit the polished pavements in search of breakfast and miscellaneous shopping items. Landing in a centuries old square surrounded by antiquities of unknown origin and supporting historical fact we consumed a delightful breakfast of coffee, OJ and some sort of tomato concoction spread over half a bread roll. The weather is absolutely perfect. Sunny skies, cool morning's, hot afternoon's and balmy evening's. After the square breaky we were just coming to an agreement that another coffee would go down well when a sign was spotted saying "we do great coffee". And they did/do. It's all they do apparently...one of those little gems that helps locals want to stay local. After sussing out pharmacies and a "sell almost anything" shop we managed to buy almost everything on the list and went back to the room to continue R&R. With the window thrown open and sounds of the city drifting in (in full force) it was extra pleasureable to know all those people were running around being busy whilst we were lying there not giving a toss - drifting in an out on the edge of sleep for hours on end. Our tour of Alhambra was due to start at 4:00 pm. The temperature gauge in the city centre said 36 degrees as we walked past. It was not that hot but it was certainly warmish. Easily caught the local bus to the top of the hill and joined our wired up group of touring practitioners for 3 hours of wonderment.

This is one of the biggest tourist attractions in the world (according to the locals who obviously have vested interest in it being so). It's easy to see why. Impressive from a civil engineering perspective - lots of running water on top of a hill which becomes the foundation of every other success in the place. A self sustaining city with gardens, houses, battlements and of course the occasional turrent. There is significant effort going into the place. The gardens are superb, the restoration fabulous and the fact that they keep 8000 visitors a day entertained is no mean feat. Let alone the money it brings in as this helps fund the whole process. And why not...it's great to see the efforts of human ingenuity over the centuries...along with the appreciation of the stupidity of vandals who think they have the right to destroy past endeavours of greatness in order to achieve a pathetic personal ambition. Yes Mr. Boneparte.. you fall into this category. The Sultan's built some spectacular buildings which have either survived or been restored scince and these were very impressive.

There was a great line expressed by our guide ..."architecture used as power".. which pretty much sums up every interesting bit of human history in Europe that all us tourists spend all this time and money to come and see. Another angle is always the cultural aspect, so whilst our digits and batteries were starting to suffer from shutter snapping fatigue we left the city on the hill by discovering a secret escape route, down through the forest and back into the old town for a serious dose of cultural exposure - albeit totally contrived to meet tourist expectations. Dinner of tapas based paella and drinks overlooking a centuries old bridge leading to happy throng of milling tourists in this balmy evening air was thoroughly enjoyable. We then wound our way up through cobblestoned streets and alleyways to get to the booked flamenco dancing show which was very gipsy based - in a cave none the less. This was great. Stupidly touristy however intimate enough to feel and understand the passion that resonates through these people as they express their culture through music and movement. Rythm and melody.. that's all you need these days. These guys and girls had it it swags. The cave had about 30 tourists lined around the edges. One guitarist. One singer (both amplified with echo synthesized effects) and 3 dancers each taking their turn on the wooden dance floor. Much tapping to match the guitar and voice and away they went... It was throroughly entertaining and we were all totally enthralled. Best part of the show was undoubtedly when the hot gypsy dancer whipped his sweat lodden dark locks in the direction of a couple of young impressionable females in the audience....they quite simply did not know how to react as his body fluids splattered onto their faces. Priceless....

Two days in town and now comfortable with the layout, we headed back to our haven through deserted cobblestoned alleyways, passing between high stone and concrete walls following the same paths that untold generations of people had done before.

Heading down South

Something amazing happened overnight in the streets of Barcelona. Previously there were barriers, speaker stands, scaffolding and all sorts of paraphernalia associated with crowd control. As we moved through them 4 hours later it was all gone. The streets were clean and washed and all was back to normal. Incredible. The only sounds echoing through the vast empty caverns of the city were our two suitcases going clickity clack over the miriad of tiled pavements. Impossible to do quietly. So we didn't slink out of town - it was more a requiem to the people of the city. A farewell salute in appreciation for their contribution to an enlightened world. If they didn't appreciate it - then smooth out your sidewalks peeps. Being up again at 4 am was a bit annoying, however an experience worth having. There was no one else around and so noisily we made our way to the town centre to catch the first bus to the airport. Lots of people there of course. And a couple of hours later we found ourselves landing in Granada. At least the Spanish airlines don't treat their people to same sardine like indignity that the Irish do. As we descended the sun was rising over the Sierra Nevada highlighting how impressive these mountains and the rich fertile valley's between are. The bus trip into town went fabulously to plan thanks to the fact we now have mobile data so we could even track our progress on the road.

Ejected from the bus at the town Cathedral we found ourselves on a very swanky looking boulevard filled with well dressed people busily doing whatever they were dressed for. Hard to tell really as they mostly seemed to be doing nothing much but looking good whilst they do it. Our hotel fits in perfecly in this scene. Only 2 years young it has the feel of utlra moderness complete with Dundee's two loo's in the rooms. Arriving well before check-in time. Leaving the bags behind we hit the streets on a mission of pure unplanned discovery. First stop was the cathedral where we quickly discovered that this place has a long history to it with an obvious Arabic influence. The smell of strange and yet enticing spices permeate everywhere and create a distinct backdrop to the incredible visual experiences to be had here. We corralled a girl on a Segway and promptly arranged to meet her at the offices for a two hour eBike tour.

This time they really did have batteries and motors and henceforth the three of us set of for a grand tour of all the interesting sights around the old town. Seriously good fun and a great way to get around with some ( but not much) effort. Riding up the steep hills was a dream. The day was a perfect 28c with a warm wind wafting down the valleys and we now understand the layout of the place so much better than it would have taken a week on foot to achieve.

It's often easy to forget that you look like a martian wearing a helmet and a bright yellow jacket when no one else is. After a cheese platter lunch and knowing that we'd just had a great adventure we checked in and did what all the locals were rightly doing and had a siesta before hitting the tourist shops later on. Their tourist precinct is unique and yet has distinct parallels with many others. Lots of small boutique shops crammed into twisting narrow streets. All selling pretty much exactly the same wares. Standouts here are the lights and lamps and the cloths based on the various cultures which have settled here over the centuries. Many hookahs and many in use in the various cafe's that intersperse the shops. Being an old town based on the side of a hill that used to support the even older town behind the fortress walls on top of the hill, there are the invariable small twisting narrow streets that lead forever upwards and so in search of a drink away from the tourist hordes - upwards we went. A long and arduous journey (when one is hangin' for a sangria) ensued. We eventually ended up in a quaint little square having a few quiet ones with the sun setting behind us as the locals set up their facilities for the evening's throngs to arrive, consume and then leave again.

Heading back into the chaos below in order to get closer to home before cobblestone roads become post sesh ankle twisters we had another "interesting" tapas selection for dinner and then hunted down an ice cream shop before heading back to base to fall exhausted into bed.

Independence ... yeah!

Independence day in Catelonia is definitely something to be apart of... assuming you're a local of course. For us outsiders it was great just to feel the vibe and be buffeted by their enthusiasm and good will. We have learnt that after centuries of seriously degradation based oppression they are now proving their worth to the wider humanitarian cause by be being open minded, forgiving, not holding grudges and generally getting on with everyone. In doing so wealth is pouring into the region and they want their fair share. Soon they will vote (yet again) for succession from Spain. Yet again the result will be resoundingly positive and yet again nothing will transpire because in the overall scheme of world politics it quite simply does not make sense. It sure does create a great vibe though. Even if their colours do look like an OH&S union march.

After 3 days we're pretty comfortable with the place and so seamlessly got to our Placa destination early with two stops for caffeine and breaky on the way. The walking tour of Gaudi was booked months in advance and luckily the Pope had nothing to do with it and as such it went ahead (afternoon tours were cancelled and had that effected us I reckon I could have found a blame link there). 20 of us took off and were shown the outside of some very interesting buildings of which Catelonias favourite son had significant influence over. Interesting to see and hear what he did and how he did it. We took the MET to get between significant locations some of which we'd already spotted previously, however with fresh knowledge it soon became apparent that more time here would be well spent by actually going inside. Another day ....year, decade maybe.... Eventually we ended up at Sagrada Familia for the 3rd day in a row. However this time it was serious as we were actually going in... Dumping one tour guide for another we got corralled, wired up with headphones and given the right amount of commentary explaining what we were seeing and then, as we walked inside she quite rightly shut up. OMG... Gaudi had the vision to inspire people towards the big G using all the tools within his kit and the results are absolutely spectacular. Needless to say these eyes have seen many awesome cathedrals etc. over the years, most of them really impressive as to what they achieved so long ago.

This is different. It takes the whole concept to another level and whilst the dude himself died many years ago we now have modern technology and techniques frantically trying to complete it. The spaces inside are rife with differently themed colour spaces. The columns are purposely built to resemble trees as they reach up towards the heavens (aka outer space). And it's only half done. Goodness knows what it will be like when it's completed. One thing is for sure; - when it is - it will be the biggest tourist attraction in the world - the irony is... it's tourist dollars that are funding it. So in reality it's the biggest crowd funding project on the go at the moment. And worth it - at least so our current architecture community can learn from it. Enlightened (not converted..sorry mate) we swam into a swarm of locals heading in for the rally. We just saw a snippet in our own little pocket and it was great. A tide of yellow with red stripes and the star of the flag surrounded us. Obviously normal people of every age, demographic and whatever else all wanting to vote "Si" in the upcoming referendum. Any excuse to have a public holiday. This was serious though. The police had all the roads blocked off. All the streets were literally lined with buses and only the clever cafe's were open. We were clever too - whilst the rally was going on down the street (could easily hear as they had PA systems set up covering kilometres of roadways) we walked around the corner and enjoyed watching the locals in their revallry whist having Sangritas, Red wine and mussels for dinner. Halfway through the rally ended and they all came past and surrounded us in another sea of yellow and strange dialects.

Back around the corner and up the ancient lift to our penthouse apartment to pack up whist observing the remenants of the revelries in the street below. Tomorrow we move on... leaving behind a city mostly unexplored. Definitely worth returning just to see the church when it's finished. Of course people have been saying that for over 150 years...

Blame the Pope

Being Sunday morning there were very few noises drifting up from the street 5 stories below when we arose to the wake up call of the phone buzz. The sky was threatening to be clear and blue as the sun started to illuminate it from below the horizon. Once again we were up early as pre-planning had set our course months ago. It was fascinating to see the streets of this thriving metropolis almost empty as we headed over to the Familia for the second day in row. Happy to find a cafe on the way for a cheap yet fabulous breaky of coffee and croissants.

On our bike tour yesterday it was highlighted that the Pope has recently visited the church and officially given it the title (and honour apparently) of a Basilica... something akin to a cathedral (apparently). Whilst this probably has Guadi grinning in his crypt below the joint it also has other implications. Such as Sunday morning mass. Who'dathunk it? Obviously not the tour company who happily took the tour money and calmy waited for all the suckers to get up early on an Sunday morning only to be turned away. And so annoyed a little with the Pope and a bit more with his desciples (the tour company) we headed off downtown to checkout the free museums in the old quarter. The day was showing signs of being the typical mederterainian weather that made the place so likeable over the thousands of years. Empires have fought each other just to have holiday homes here. Today you could see why. Once seamlessly commuting to the area we then practiced our well honed skills of wandering around in circles trying to find non-descript places based on half remembered snippets of information. Snapping every possible photogenic angle possible. And yes...that means pretty much everything. Some success.. first into the Santa Maria del Mar (along with some dirty looks from a family obviously there to christen their child) .

Pleasant coffee breaks. And some frustration in trying to locate the old Roman ruins. Figuring it was all closed we headed home to spend lunch on our elevated balcony where one way you can catch a glimpse of the a sea and the other the mountains with a smattering of terracotta tiles and shuttered windows in between. A couple of hours in the local laundromat ensued. No stress just a very entertaining time with a old Latino woman who was asking everyone how the system works. Over and over again. By now the day was seriously feeling summery and so we did what we had to do and go and have a siesta, with the warm winds and the quiet sounds of the Sunday afternoon street drifting in through the open shutters. Refreshed we ploughed into the afternoon throngs and proceeded the "get confused looking for places" in the twisted cobblestone streets of the old town again. By now we had a SIM and internet access and an app and and an electronic map. Still managed to stuff it up. All good fun though. Eventually we found the ruins under the town. These were quite simply amazing. Not only in their age (2000 years according to the lift that took us there) but also the effort and cost to expose them to all and sundry to explore. And yes, we got in for free.

We were literally walking around underneath the plaza where above a few hundred years ago the Spanish Inquisition was pouring hot oil out of the gargoyles above onto the heathens whilst the royalty watched on from the top of the steps which is now the exit of the museum. Time for a sesh of tapas and wine (and beer). It was memorable however learnt a lesson in ordering as tapas can just be a variety of cold cuered meats. Not to everyone's palate. Based on a snippet of information we had one last foray before retiring for the night. Back on the ever efficient met we went up to a local (very famous) hill which had some sort of water light show going on. Based on the Waltzing Waters from the Tatra Hut in the Dandenong Ranges they got this idea of throwing water around and lighting it up from underneath and corriographying it to music. Unlike the hut this was seriously attended. There were hordes of people there and they kept swarming in. We snaffled a great spot just near the exit at the bridge and so had a great view as well as really entertaining time watching the security guards keeping the exit clear which inadvertently kept our view unobstructed.

Leaving early to avoid the obvious jam when everyone else did we navigated the PT back home sank into another blistful sleep (obviously assumed given the timing of these words being constructed).

Planes, trains and...bikes

Assuming they have sparows in Scotland we were up before they started their morning constitution. An extremely complicated juggling of getting each suitcase under the allowed limit by the short hop airline was pointless as it turned out as they combined both together in their calculations. This was all worked through at the airport at 4:30 am along with hordes of other older generation people heading off for the warmer climbs now that school has started. Strange to see all these people flying and no kids amougnst them. They'd all had their fun in the past two months and now the non-attached are taking advantage of the shoulder season rates and lack of constant hubdrub that accompanies that genre.

Budget we paid and budget we got. Never been so cramped for 3 long hours as this flight kindly supplied by the Irish provided. Admittedly their check-in (self run) was very efficient. Longer than the 3 hours in the tightly packed seats would have required a medical recovery team at arrivals in order to a avoid law suits. Arriving in a new country with no idea of the language apart from 16 episodes of Faulty Towers can be a bit daunting. However we stumbled on through. Found the train station, bought the tickets and got on board the fast loco to the centre of town. No map. No internet and only vague idea of where to go. Just as we started to try and use devices A prankster in the guise of busker decided to play his extremely loud piano accordion right next to our heads. Knowing the local dialogue would have resulted in a negotiation on relocation. One can only assume that because he was not rupturing their eardrums or their sensibilities the rest of the prisoners in the carriage kept encouraging him. Luckily after passing the cup he went to torment another part of the train and thus we could work our way through our own personal dilemma. Alighting in the right place we walked around in circles for a while until free local internet and an apple device provided clarity. Go to the excellently located rooms, dropped the bags in storage ( we were early) a quick refresh and then we hit the streets of Barcelona. Sort of more stumble around without any real guidance due to lack of comms with the real world (aka internet) or a quality map. Rain was threatening. It was the same band that had hounded us in Scotland. Typical...pack it in a suitcase, take it with you wherever you go. Only a rain God can do this. By the time we got back to the room to start siesta practice it was thundering and pouring down. The locals were estatic...the build up had finally ended. Maybe next year they can pay us to turn up... Anyway. We left in the rain and headed to our next adventure. An ebike tour of the town. A fair amount of stress ensued when we arrived on time at the wrong location. Clear thinking prevailed by the non-blogger and we captured a taxi to the correct square down town. Expecting some sort of fandangled contraptions to be visible we completely missed the fact that they were there patiently waiting for us. So we headed of for a fabulous 3 hours of peddling around the town gleaning some wonderful insights into the town and the history behind the place. The rain jackets purchased for Scotland but not used certainly were put to good effect today.

Details of the town are far to many to cover here, what is relevant is they are building up for their big independence day on Monday. And we'll be here for it. Memories of the Spanish Inquisition are still very strong (as are their use of soft cushions). So it should be fun. We did to their beach - exceptionally empty during to rain ( which cleared).

After the tour we hit a couple of tapas bars for Sangritas, vino etc and tasty bites that define the place. Surrounded by the old town narrow streets and all the locals hangin' around obviously enjoying themselves it was a fabulous end to a big day.

A Stirling effort

Another dreary highland day was revealed when peeking out the dew covered window first thing. Packing is becoming more familiar now and breakfast was as good as yesterday. Even if spent in a room full of bussing central European's. Managed not to mention the war so all was good. After loading the wheels and paying the bill we headed off to Inverness to collect the item left behind the day before. In doing so unduly left the road maps behind on the counter of the hotel. This has to stop. Being extremely lucky in that we were planning to go back through the Ness today anyway, all it took was an extra 25 mins to park, walk, ask, wait, collect and walk back to the car. Thus once again fully armed with the plastic fantastic we started the drive along the great rift. Lots of interesting sights with canals with locks and swingbridges. Water everywhere not just in the lakes but also cascading down the extremely impressive mountain slopes because we were also getting quite a few rain showers between patches of ...not having rain showers.

Lock Ness was fairly choppy in the strong westerly ripping up through the rift. Because we were on a fairly tight schedule we didn't spend too long looking for Nessy. Not quite sure what all the contention is about as she was plain to see when we stopped for a quick pic across to the castle. Not sure if the tourist boats noticed... whatever, we were in hurry to get to Sterling so we pushed on. The radio was nicely keeping us informed of the traffic conditions and it became more and more apparent we were running into trouble ahead. A truck had managed to roll over and spill grain all over the road. This was cause enough to block both sides of the highway and the crane called in to pick it up was not doing the job well enough to get the road clear for us in time. Honestly..the trouble people here will go to just to stop us sticking to our itinerary is extraordinary. Hopefully Brexit will fix this. And so we had suffer the indignity of loosing more than an hour by performing a huge diversion further along the coast and then up along some more incredibly scenic valleys. Stress levels were pretty high as we had to get to Stirling in time. One nifty manouver using the power of the VW to skirt an annoying bus was duly rewarded with gasps from the passenger seat and then a relatively clear run for the rest of the diversion. This got us over the highlands and eventually to Stirling on time. The castle here came well recommend (thus the anxiety to see it) and extremely rewarding it was. This is so much better than Edinburgh's attempt.

We were enthralled by the visible history, the way that it was presented and just the general ambience of the place. We were there just in time to join the last tour of the day (due to previously mentioned driving skills) and so we got the general gist and then had free poke around amongst ever diminishing crowds and a setting sun. Many, many photos taken. Some with no-one in them. Content that all day's boxes were ticked - off we took to hit hit the motorway and thus shoot straight down to the airport and our lodgings for the night. A quick sesh in the bar including dinner and bit of planning for the day's movements. Back to the room to rearrange baggage to cater for rediculous weight restrictions, penning this entry and its off to sleep for a couple of hours pending a very early start in order to see what delights the continent can bring. So long Scotland.. Maybe next time hagis will be consumed. Maybe.

Driving and drams

Throwing open the drapes over the windows revealed a scene of mist covered hills, sodden lawns and consistent rain coming out of the grey clouds overhead. The fabulous breakfast (included in room cost made it more so) was consumed with great gusto and duly satisfied we jumped into the wheels and headed off for a day tour of Speyside. The country side refused to be dulled by inclement weather and indeed seems to come alive in some respects and the drive was simply one spectacular vista after another. The digital radio cutting in and out as we traversed the various ridges and gullies provided the entertainment. Interesting to note that the Scottish based stations are far more interesting and humourous as compared the ones from down South. This is probably why Edinburgh has a world famous comedy festival whilst London doesn't. Hopefully Brexit will fix this. Stumbling across a castle on the back roads we decided not to go in due to costs, timeframes and itineraries. Did stretch the legs though. Hitting the old town of Inverness we discovered a thriving modern day metropolis surrounding streets of old buildings. One noticeable highlight of Scotland is the effort they put into hanging baskets and window boxes.

Delving into one modern shopping complex we purchased some vital supplies in Boots and left a credit card behind. Good skills..not. Unbeknownst, we hightailed out of town and headed back into the Speyside vistas to get to the distillery for the pre-booked tour. Stopping for tea and coffee at Arbelour along the way. The tour of Glenfarclas was very insightful. It's amazing the effort they go to to produce the nectar of the gods. It was here the missing card became apparent so whilst it created a bit of anxiety during the tour this was resolved at the end by the staff making a phone call to the store and sorting it out for us. How good is that! From now on this is my favourite brand. A couple of drams afterwards to prove the point...

Another pleasant drive through the scenery that does not stop giving and we got back to our comfy hotel in Tomintoul. Choosing this place was a real stroke of luck. Possibly the quaintest village we went through that meets all our needs. Dinner in the hotel - with a bus load of Germans arriving there were some great expectations of a repeated scene from Faulty Towers. All the ingredients were there. Alas all we had was a very nice (and cheap) dinner in the pub and then off to hit the huge bed in preparation for the big drive tomorrow.

Highest of high

The sun decided to come out today. Albeit only occasionally, however it certainly added to the overall picturesqueness of the Scottish vistas we experienced throughout the course of the day. The blogger arose early and wandered up the noisy road to catch the bus to the airport in order to collect the required wheels for the few days ensuing adventures. All went well until confronted by the hordes of travellers alighting from planes wanting the same thing. Hopefully Brexit will fix this. Eventually independent, we took to the roads and headed north for the highlands with a few diversions and lessons along the way. First diversion was missed turnoff's and thus insights into obscure Scottish towns. Well their main streets anyway. Key lesson was get a real map. Regardless of the tech nothing beats a good old printed piece of paper to show the way.

Another diversion was St.Andrews and setting a couple of course records. Shortest time on the tee. Most pictures taken per time spent. Least number of strokes taken. Definitely worthy of entries into the record books. Foresaking the tourist routes and using our new found technology ( printed maps) we hightailed up the highway listening to the best and worst of the 80's on our digital radio whilst the technological marvel of our VW spirited us towards our destination. Eventually we turned left and headed up in to the hills. Verdant plains graced our vision along the way. As did a variety of vistas that often reminded of home until the old stone buildings and strange sounding place names showed we were indeed in a strange land. Absolutely beautiful though. An abundance of the local floral emblem lined the roads along with green gullies, bubbling creeks, autumn leaves, an abundance of fir trees and the occasional road kill ( rabbits).

Higher and Higher we climbed. Sometimes seriously steep roads. This as a great drive. Eventually we shot over the very top of the highlands which were set up for the serious business of snow skiing. Give it a month or two and they'll be in to it. These hills are unique. They resonate in a variety of colours and shades as the varying light bounces off the vegitation patches in cacophony of patchwork patterns whilst the vista desolves into the distance. Photo's courtesy of Ro.

And thus we arrived in Tomintul. Highest town in the Speyside region and as quaint to boot. Dinner at the joint across the road from our abode was superb. Seems like the town is full of touring Middle Aged Men On Motorcycles (MAMON's). Given the well made roads it's not surprising. A couple of drams of the local finest whilst listening to the life imitating art of the bar staff soap opera was thoroughly entertaining whilst increasing the verbosity of this post.

Rule Britannia

After another of the same breakfast (when you're on a good thing...) We headed back into town by bus to hop back on the hoponhopoff bus again. Talk about bus city. We've now been on so many busses in the last three days we're starting to feel like Reg. This journey took us down to the port of Lieth where the cast aside relic of the grandiose days of the empire lays permanently lashed to the warf so millions of milling tourists can get thier fill of royal regalia and some interesting insights into the mindset of the first family.

From Phil's taste in bamboo furniture ( obviously allowed to stay just to keep the guy from saying more politically incorrect comments) to Charles's casting couch the royal yacht Britannia is very interesting couple of hours. All visitors are handed ingenious tour guide devices which effectively keeps the noise volumes down to respectful murmur because everyone is too busy concentrating on their own personal tour that they no need to shout at each other as they normally would. Once we'd done the ship we then headed up to the top deck to have tea and scones. Just as Liz had done so many times before. In a sense it's a pity she couldn't have run the house hold finances a bit better and been able to keep the rig. Maybe it was the embarassment of having a whole industrial laundry on board in order to clean the stained sheets..

Pondering these questions we split the team. The girls headed off on the hoponhopoff to explore the underground city whilst the boys went off to explore the delights of the Scotch Malt Whiskey Appreciation Society. Apparently the cavern's were interesting. Needless to say the delights of partaking in the best the country has to offer in the auspices of the grand old rooms filled with grand old members was awesome.

The trip back on the hoponhopoff was extremely long. Edinburgh peak hour traffic was slowing all progress to a snails pace and it seemed the people who control the traffic lights program may have either be having a few drams at the time or there were bagpipes playing in the background...maybe both. Anyway - hopefully Brexit will fix it. Back at base camp we said good bye to Sarah and Nick who had to go back to work tomorrow and we settled into a different room for the night. Being lulled to sleep by the dulcet tones of the roaring traffic interspersed by the innane chatter of the drunken smokers out the front of the pub below.

Up on the parapet

A scrumptious breakfast in the White Lady kicked the day off with a great start. Hopefully Brexit won't stop the locals from consuming international cuisine such as Eggs Benedict. Whilst the four us spent most of the day playing tourist there was an underlying theme of obtaining a SIM card for local access. Needed a Tesco ( as one does when in the UK). Up to the centre of town (Waverly) to get our hoponhopoff passes and then hopped on the green bus for a verbal description of the points of interest on the twisting (and sometimes retraced route. Hopping off up near the top of the volcanic plug on which the castle resides we blended in and thus became part of the milling throng of tourists who were all there to do exactly the same as us. Wondering how much it would cost to actually get the bagpipes to shut up instead of encouraging them to continue we strolled through the middle of the Tattoo stadium where the workmen were sitting around obviously content in knowing that by the time they'd spent months pulling down the temporary seats they could have a quiet month of R & R in (say) the Bahamas and then come back and put them up again for next year's event. Maybe it's this kind of situation that inspires the pipes compositions... Once we toiled up the hill we spent a few very interesting hours exploring the structures, the history and thus some of the culture of the country. We were there for the one o'clock salute which was remarkable in that is was a dull (yet moving) thump but the echoes that came back were seriously shot like. Luckily for the people in Lieth these artillery men are like a specific demographic - which always fire blanks. During all these shenanigans the rain started in earnest.

Downstairs we indulged in lunch at Maggie Dicksons - served by a couple of young touring Aussies. Apparently Maggie came back to life after being hanged and went on to lead a fullfilling life. Had she had known that 300 years later her legacy would result in facilitating this annoying people's relentless journeys around the globe she may have relaxed a little more on gallows. Following a great midday repleshment we trod off through the pouring rain on the search for SIM bearing Tesco's. No luck so it was back on the hoponhopoff bus to get off the plug and eventually we did hunt down one of shops. So much effort for such a little piece of plastic. Taking the bus to the limits we alighted and then headup up (one of many) stair cases to the old town again. Then ensued a fruitless hunt for a subterranean city. At least it gave us a focus to while away the minutes in preparation for the next session. Pre's in the Albanach (lots-o-fun) followed by dinner at another Italian eatery. A very unique constantly nut munching taxi driver got us home safely enough. Followed by a dram nightcap back at the lady was a fitting end to an awesome day.

Off to bonny Scotland

A long sleep from exhaustion at the normal local times and wholah! No jet lag. Throwing open the drapes revielled a cold drab Sunday morning in quiet central Manchester. A jaunt across the road to the train station confirmed our realisation that we had chosen the wrong hotel location. After breaky at a nearby cafe this was easily resolved by a short taxi trip. We arrived early and luckily we asked for assistance to find out our line was closed due to a landslide as a result of a burst water main. Hopefully Brexit will improve the infrastructure. The advice we received was excellent. A mad dash up and down stairs saw us catching an earlier train to a different station on the Northern line where we ended up on our pre-booked service in our reserved seats shooting though the rain sodden green fields and hedgerows under grey skies. How very English. Hurtling through the northern reaches, the well appointed train passed very picturesque country side. The hedges give way to stone on the higher farms where the sheep and cows are lying around - obviously exhausted from consuming the rich green grass. The ubundant creeks and rivers look fresh and clean and as we headed to the scotchish capital the clouds tried to give way to the sun...to no avail.

Arriving in Edinburgh we were warmly greeted with hugs and longing friendship tears by Sarah and Nick who made damn sure that priories were correctly dealt with by hitting the nearest pub to the station. The fact that he has business ties to the place is inconsequential to the pioancy of the situation. It was a great intro to the town... looking past the patrons to the famous castle perched on a rock framed by an arched window was awesome. As was the company. The hospitality continued by showing us the bus route to our fabulous room at the White Lady and then back into town for pre's at an old converted bank (into a bar...now there's an idea worth pursuing...for all branches... anyway I digress....). Suitably lubricated we slidded up the road to Jamie Oliver's Italian restaurant for dinner. When in Rome..... Back at the lady the girls went to sleep whilst the boys went for a night cap...or two until flicked out by the closing bell.

To the other side of the planet

The first flight out in the morning is definitely the way to go. Apart from the pain of getting up at 2am. The girls kindly got up as well and drove us out to the port. No traffic. Straight in. Moderate check-in. Straight through customs, duty free and onto the bird which actually departed early! Picture that! So we settle in for 13 hour stint in our own 2 seats down the back. The Joy of booking early and selecting your own seats. And so from the cold green dark of Melbourne we winged our way through sunrise over the Sundrenched Land, blue tropical waters,the Asian sub continent and into the hot dry bleached deserts of North Africa. An extremely easy transfer in Dubai and here we are - perched up the front top deck of a new A380. 2 seats to ourselves again. Luxury in economy. Internet access in the air (thus the post)

The middle east is pretty much a trouble zone these days. In order to avoid the worst of it we snuk up the coast of Iran (admiring their agricultural efforts in very harsh climate). Slipped around the edge of Turkey and used the Black Sea as cover until we got to the friendlier skies of the west. By the time we landed in Manchester the world had turned green again and the houses had peaked roofs and the accents all went a little wierd. All in all it all went according to plan. Hopefully with a decent sleep catch up the interesting stuff will start tomorrow.

Last Day in Paradise

Possibly the best morning weather wise we got up and took advantage of the late checkout (because no-one was due in today). A snorkel for both of us before breakfast is a petty cool way to start the day.

The loss of a thong (left too close to the gobbling swells) was tolerated as it was no longer required anyway. A lazy morning in the cabin ensued as the wind picked up again. A slow pack and then a last lunch before checkout in the packed dining room. So whilst we jumped into the good car for the long drive back to Nadi it was with regret as we left behind a beautiful place packed with beautiful people and the whole coast basking in a beautiful day weather wise.

12 hours door to door... the trip was uneventful - apart from a split cup of red wine all over oneself. It's delightful being pinned into the same position for 6 hours smelling of wine, getting cold from it and knowing your clothes will be ruined as a result. Ah the joys of travel....At least Melbourne International was freely moving (1st time ever) - suspect this was due to only two small flights landing at the time.

This is what we came for

The sky was an unbroken sheen of glorious blue when we flipped open the shutters and drew back the blinds. Whilst the persistent easterly continued to.... persist, at least this was the type of vista we expected when we first envisaged this foray. And so in order to make sure we could tick off as many items on the "to do" list as possible.. first up breakfast..nah kidding ..that wasn't on the list... Kayaking was and Kayaking we did.

Paddling furiously against the wind and currents we weaved our way amongst the coral spikes to get as near as we could to the outer reef. Yep.. we eventually got stuck. Teamwork prevailed and we easily zoomed back (with a tailwind and current to help) to our beach front harbour. Next (on the list) was repeating the long trek back along the picturesque beaches to a perfectly located boutique. Run by locals and leveraging off the Hideaway clientele this little shack offers manicures, pedicures, massages, and tattoos.

Partaking in all but the later the following hour or so was spent whiling away the time there whilst effectively giving to the local village. An interesting setup....Perched somewhat precariously between the main road and the cliffs to the beach and backing onto the resort concrete wall (think Berlin ..or maybe modern day Israel ...soon to be Mexico/US .... get my drift here?) the staff are....well locals learning the trade. If you want a 1st world Toorak Road Armadale experience then stay there. The views out the windows of the corrugated iron extension perched high over the beach which houses the 3 massage tables is priceless. The strength in the fingers (let alone the physique) of the masseurs is testament as to why they recently won their first Olympic gold medal.

And thus rubbed, oiled, clipped, filed and painted we fell out of the shack into the burning sun and facing a 4 km walk home. Which we did. Foresight is great...we had sunscreen to reapply and so it was a glorious trek back over now well known terrain. Along the way we picked up previously noted biochemical hazards ..D-Cell batteries. Thought there were 4 ... eventually collected 10 of the monstrosities. Someone around here needs some educating.

Lunch ensued (not on the list...) and then kick back and see if the weather will be kind....and it was. A dip in the (always tempting for the last week) pool at our doorstep was performed (yep...it was on the list) by one and the other later on headed to the outer reaches of the reef - this time armed with two underwater cameras and snorkeling gear (also on the list). Combined, capturing over an hour of never to be looked at footage. At least a couple of selfies may prevail. The reefs are great, mostly so because you can walk out your door and go straight into them. Very few places in the world you can do this. (Note to self : don't be here when a tsunami rolls in.). By then then sun was heading elsewhere an d Pre's were the order of the day. By the time we emerged from our little slice of heaven the sun had gone, Venus was brightly chasing it and in the other direction the full moon was shining brightly behind (curiously) still palm fronds..

And the wind doth blow

The sou'easterly had turned pretty much full on easterly and bordering on gale force as we stumbled out of the cabin after a hard night of arguing with poorly written blog construction apps and inadequate tools running them. The morning was subsequently taken up by trying to recover the losses of the night before. Having posted a 2nd hand version (never as good as the original) we headed off downwind along the beach with the aim off reaching the Hideaway for a reminisce of days long past and prior to current coupling.

Once again the locale comes alive when out of the wind. Leaving our towel behind (hitchhikers all over the galaxy shudder in disbelief) the trek past villages, jungle, elders sitting on rocks, choral deserts and river crossings ( yep..more wet feet) was delightful. Somewhat more exotic than traipsing past houses in 1st world suburbia. The resort was ..well...a resort. Manicured gardens between the plethora of villa's nestled beneath a canopy of palm trees. No one on the extensive beach.

Eventually found everyone crowded around the one pool. Kids screaming. A pod of wannabee scuba divers looking totally out of place in less than 1 meter of water. All the deck chairs full of lounging tourists. Without breaking stride we glided through so thankful that we had our slice if heaven to go back to.
Needless to say the headwinds on the way bank were tiring but to be in the warm tropics on a deserted beach is worth a strong breeze or two.

Stopping at our towel we plunged into the shallow waters to cool off after our efforts (8 kms). Well actually the water is so shallow at low tide it was more "lower ourselves into the remaining dregs"...still clear, clean and refreshing though.
The afternoon was consumed by massages alternating with reading and with the wind continuing at its feverish pitch putting paid to any notion of water activities.
Then pre's. Then dinner. Then blogging. Then bed. Day done.

This is what Paradise is all about.

The early morning sun cast yellow beams of happiness through the green fronds of the palm trees and onto the gleaming white sands signalling the beginning of a day with a somewhat ambitious agenda.

Given the conditions - immediately after pancakes for breakfast we threw ourselves into a snorkelling foray in the waters lapping on (well OK then ..20 meters away from) our doorstep. Then we wandered up the road in order to jump on top of a couple of previously mentioned "Rollin' in sands" horses and spent the next hour strolling along the beach conveyed by beasts.

Beware the horse snorts and I was....frequently.Very well trained and beautiful animals. A very generous gesture by Ro to jump off and run up to our kitchen to snag some carrot treats for them. Next we jumped into our hosts brand spankin'  4wd and headed off up into the forests in search of rushing waters. Arriving in a local village we had to partake in the traditional greeting ceremony (kava and coordinated clapping - shoes and hats off, cross legged in grass mats, $50 donation to the village) followed by the chance to purchase a plethora if local handcrafts.

Happily handing over the dosh ( they need it - especially the chief - he gets all of Wednesdays takings - seriously - other days goes to the school etc.)  and having no cash left afterwards for delightfully decorated ornaments we headed upstream. Into the plush rainforest we plunged. Luckily the path was well trodden and the aforementioned funds were paying the way for a paved path to keep the tourists feet from mud and slippage. And thus more will come. 9 river crossings (wet shoes) and 3km through classical jungle landscape we arrived at the waterfall. Pristine and perfect, we frolicked in the crystal clear fresh waters.

It was only after prompting, our guide (Daniel) informed us that the natives considered these waters to hold mystical fertility powers. If our kids get a sibling out of this there will need to be some serious scientific studies into exactly what is floating in these waters after so many generations of "frolicking" by the locals. The chicken and tuna sandwiches we ordered for lunch were a lesson - in both taste and in ordering - clarifying when specifying when one wants a variety....not a combination. Heading back down we crossed the 15k steps mark on the Fitbit  and the 18th river crossing for the day (woo hoo!). The drive back to the compound ( well it is behind a big concrete wall) was insightful with Wayne the owner espousing how difficult it is to make life work as an ex-pat in Fiji. 1st world problems in a 3rd world country....at least he's giving it a red hot go. Back at camp we luxuriated in our 1st world privileges. One on a deck chair beside the pool the other out to the far reaches of the reef - armed with nought but snorkel, flippers and waterproof camera. An hour later a 10 minute blast of one of the last vestiges of the crappy weather touched the shore. However by then it was time for debrief and cocktails back at HQ. Dinner was proceeded by a quick reconnoiter up to the ATM/supermarket/liquor shop and then we got to try and rate a new dish created by the chef. Seafood Crepe...really? can it possibly get better than this? Well - yes it can ... it's now late and it's raining.. as it's meant to do in the tropics ( e.g. at night). So care factor = 0.

Doing goodness out west

It's amazing how sometimes a plan works exceedingly well. Set it up, go with flow whilst executing and it all just falls into place...For the first time the sun was out when we woke, the wind had dropped and the crystal clear waters of the warm tropical coral reef beckoned like a siren from the rocks.

Tempted as we were, we had to forgo the pristine delights that lapped at our doorstep and instead climbed into our tiered old jalopy and headed into the gloom of the west.
Our genius hosts had managed to secure a hire car for the day at incredibly cheap rates and no paper to fill out. The poor old thing has done over 250,000 km and struggled a bit up the hills. However with a maximum allowable speed of 80kph this did not really concern us. We were by no means the slowest on the road.
Loaded with goodies we caught up with our rendezvous at the Hindu temple in Nandi.

Slight embarrassment mistaking the car park attendant for a beggar, we followed to the temporary home of the Ratu family. They normally live on the island Koro. This was directly in the path of the cyclone. Consequently displaced to the outskirts of Nadi whilst Yogen works for a nephew of a work colleague of Ro's. They have a 3 month old baby and live in a ...humpy? constructed of old corrugated iron sheets. Two rooms, grass mats covering the dirt floor. Of course - no services, no fly screens, nothing...just a will to live and a strong family bond.
Due to the close proximity of the concrete factory the baby goes elsewhere during the day. So we met Mum, Dad, Cousin, Niece and Nephew members of the family from all over.
No photo's - felt it would have been bit rude.
It was nice they cleaned up the place and offered Kava whilst were sitting cross legged on the floor in a circle however they seemed to appreciate the declination based on the need to drive. They were very happy with our two suitcases full of essentials (well what we think they may have needed anyway). Maybe next time it may be a little less awkward. So we headed off and onto a highly recommended Chinese restaurant for lunch (LC's - we were originally looking for Elsie's...).
This was followed by a quick poke around the shops of Nadi looking for obscure audio cables before we headed back south, out of the overcast gloom and back to the glistening coast. Just by the time we managed to hit the water the sun disappeared again. urrrgghhh. However the water was warm and the fish glowing brightly against the bleached coral. Dinner in the dining room with one other couple (the other one must've got room service) and a DVD before blogging saw the day to an end.

Chillaxing in the tropics

The coral coast is named as such due to the extensive coral reefs which line the whole southern edge of the main island. Extending about 200 meters from the shoreline they provide a solid barrier to the swells of the open Pacific ocean. The surf constantly pounds against the reef creating an incessant roar which filters through the wooden slats of the villa windows day and night. We have had to keep these mostly closed due to the cold wind accompanying the sound of ocean whipping through the room, making it feel like a typical winters day south of Hounville.

Lesson to be learnt: never assume warm weather in the tropics and pack accordingly.
A short stroll along the beach (before massage for the other one) this morning saw us stumbling across some frolicking horses and an interesting vertical waterfall off the reef. Thinking the weather was improving was purely due to being around the point and out of the wind. Back at Breezy Villa (where the chill winds doth blow) we were kindly entertained by Daniel. Local dude who had many talents inc. Basket weaving, Hat weaving, and other fashion accessories such as glasses and watches.

He also shimmied up a tree to get some fresh coconuts for us to drink from. Very entertaining.
Dinner was delightful. This is certainly the place to come to relax away from the maddening hordes. Given the weather it also puts a whole new meaning to the verb chillax. We do however remain hopeful the sun will prevail at some stage and allow us to
fully enjoy the delights this place has to offer.
Tomorrow we head off into the wild west to seek out some deserving souls.....

A Change in the weather

The locals are abuzz with the fact that the weather is behaving so weirdly. This cold wind and rain is not apparently the norm for this time of the year. Some farmers are enjoying the extra water on their crops whilst others are complaining about their machinery being bogged. At this point in time Fiji itself is not victim to the rising seas of global warming due to its circular barrier reefs. However everyone knows this is just a temporary stay against the impending high tides.
We got to hear the rain pattering down all night as we drifted in an out of a well earned 14 hour sleep. Luckily meal times here are at the bequest of the guests (not dictated to by zealous resort managers) so we abide by our own timetable and thus we do whatever we like whenever we like.

Including sampling the finest the land has to offer.
The rain stopped during the day and we went for a stroll over the coral sand beaches along the coral coast taking in the pristine views of coral infused waters, ringed with palm trees waving in the strong winds over the clumps of washed up coral on the shoreline.
Our journey came to an end when we ran into a village with no clear way along the waterline. So we retreated back to our private residence and spent the rest of the day hangin' about. Watching handmade coconut milk being produced, Spars in dubious water , a massage for one and lots of books being read.

Dinner was good as was the ambience. We now have 4 couples staying in the place. It's almost buzzing with vibe.. (almost).
We've also made contact with our contact who knows how to contact the pending recipients of our extra luggage we lugged here. No doubt this will develop into a comprehensible statement over the next few bloggs....

Marooned in Paradise

Here we are. Stuck on the bottom of Viti Levu with nowhere to go and with no means of getting there.

It's raining - driven by a cool southerly coming of the NZ snow capped mountains thousands of kilometers across the sea. Any notion of exploration of either land or water is quickly forgotten as the precipitation drives the few guests inside their quaint villas. We spent many hours getting here overnight. The 5hour flight was pretty much sleepless. The arival in Nadi was painful due to two flights arriving at the same time, renovations restricting the flow through customs and the really weird band of security guards acting as musicians. The drive (by our jack-of-all-trades Mani) was a fabulous insight into Fiji culture and facts. e.g. approx 850,000 people live here. Only 60 road deaths per year. Mani is obviously not happy with this and subsequently is doing his utmost to increase the stats. Hopefully the top speed limit of 80kph and the excessive speed bumps across the highways will thwart him on his unaware quest. Upon reflection though it was a very useful lesson in how to handle the roads for later.

Our resort is in the middle of nowhere and as we have no wheels it looks as if we are captured for the week. Have just signed up for the meals package so it looks as if we'll be hangin' in our room with the occasional stroll over pseudo pebbled pathways to the dining room to put on calories we have no hope of burning off. Tonight is Curry night. Paradise.